


Random Short Prompts

by rieraclaelin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Pillow Fights, Tight Pants, leather pants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4878658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rieraclaelin/pseuds/rieraclaelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, these are just some random prompts to allow me to practice my writing!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary said, these are just some random prompts that my friend gave me. If you read these, and decide you like my writing (don't worry, I know I'm not that great yet, hence the practice here :P) Feel free to send me some prompts on my [Tumblr](http://rieraclaelin.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Tags will change accordingly, as will the rating. 
> 
> This first prompt was something along the lines of "Stop tapping Morse Code on my nipple!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Why are you in my kitchen dressed like a hooker?"

Dean stumbled his way out of his bedroom and followed the scent of fresh coffee through his house. Upon reaching the doorway to his kitchen, he froze with his fingers against his stomach where he had been idly scratching.

Standing in front of the kitchen table with his back facing Dean stood his best friend, Cas. That wasn't the strange part, Dean was used to Cas being in his house, though usually not this early in the morning. No, the strange part was the tight, leather pants that sat way below his hips, and a black vest that stopped above his waist. Judging by the way it flared out on the sides, the vest was open in the front, and since Dean could see all that pale skin, Cas obviously wasn't wearing anything underneath the vest. Dean leaned against the doorway and watched as Cas shuffled papers and books around on the table that nobody ever ate on since it was basically Sam's desk when he was home from classes for the day. He took a minute to just admire Cas, knowing that his presence wasn't known yet and he could look his fill.

When a book fell off the edge of the table and Cas bent down to pick it up, Dean admired the way his pants tightened against his ass and slipped lower down his back, revealing the hot pink thong underneath. _Wait. What?_

Dean felt his whole body go hot, and he licked his lips then cleared his throat.

The loud cracking sound from Cas hitting his head against the bottom of the table echoed through the kitchen along with the hissed “fuck!” that quickly followed. Cas straightened up and whirled around to face Dean, eyes wide and cheeks red. He had one hand held over his mouth while the other rubbed at the back of his head.

Dean raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as he tried his hardest to hide his amusement over Cas's embarrassment.

“D-Dean,” Cas stuttered, then dropped his hand quickly when he realized how muffled he sounded. “Sam said you would be at work already.”

“Did he, now? Huh, that's odd. Pretty sure he knows I don't work on Tuesdays,” Dean said before straightening up and walking over to the coffee pot. He poured a cup, then turned to look back at Cas, who had his arms crossed over his chest as if he was trying to hide.

“So. Wanna tell me why you are in my kitchen dressed like a hooker?”

Cas blushed harder and looked down at the ground.

“Stripper, actually. I-uh, it's a long story.”

“Ok. So, you, what, are a stripper now?”

 _“No!_ ” Cas gasped out, quickly looking back up at Dean. “It's, I mean, this is... Gabriel made me do it.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head, then took another drink of his coffee. “Okay, dude, spill. Explain to me why your brother dressed you in leather and a thong.”

Cas let out a squeak at the mention of the thong and started backing out towards the doorway. “I- I'm just going to go now. Um, j-just pretend I wasn't here.”

Dean reached out and grabbed Cas's arm so he couldn't leave the kitchen. “Come on, man, you can't just show up in my kitchen dressed like this and tell me it's because of your crazy brother, then expect me to just forget about it. Tell me!”

Cas bit his lip, then sighed quietly and nodded before shuffling over to a kitchen chair and sitting down.

“I-well, I lost a bet. No, I guess technically I won the bet, but, I still lost.” His voice trailed off as he picked at his thumb nail, then he glanced back up at Dean and sighed at his obvious confusion.

“Gabriel wanted to see who had a tattoo in the most risque place. Whoever won had to do whatever Gabriel said. I won.”

“I've seen Sam's stupid moose tattoo on his shoulder, and I've seen Gabriel's ridiculous sausage tattoo on his hip. How did the feather on your calf beat your brother's,” Dean asked, raising his eyebrow again.

Cas blushed again, then mumbled, “I have another one.”

“No, you don't.” Cas just stared at Dean quietly. “Wait, seriously? You have another tattoo? Where? I want to see it.”

Cas bit his lip, then shook his head. “I-I can't show you. Just... trust me, I won.”

Dean put his coffee cup down on the counter, then stared at Cas long enough to make him squirm.

“Okay, if you won't show me, can you at least point to where it is at?”

Cas's eyes widened, then he slowly stood up and tried to cover his chest with the vest before he gave up and sighed and said, “It was my final year in college, and Gabe invited me to one of his parties. I got drunk, and, well... I guess I thought it would be a good idea to get a tattoo.”

Cas stared at Dean for a few seconds before looking down, then took a deep breath and trailed his finger lowly across his stomach, just below the button of his leather pants. “Right here.”

Dean sucked in his breath, then quickly turned around to refill his coffee cup. He took a drink to wet his suddenly dry mouth before he slowly turned back to face Cas, whose face was flushed bright red.

Dean mentally shook himself, then gave Cas what he hoped was an easy smile. “So, you got a drunken tattoo, and lost the bet. Or won it. Guess it depends on who you are asking. Why didn't you just turn down the bet when you heard what it was?”

Cas just shook his head. “Gabe made us agree to the bet before he would tell us what it was. Sam seemed excited, but, I think he's just used to Gabe's bets by now.”

Dean looked up and down Cas's body, pausing briefly at the waist of his pants before darting his eyes back up to his face and clearing his throat. “Ok, I understand you lost, and I'm assuming Gabriel is the one who picked out this outfit. What I don't understand is why you are in my kitchen, exactly?”

Cas remained silent, just staring intently at Dean, who started shifting back and forth on his feet then stopped and sighed. “What?”

“You are blushing,” Cas said with a tilt of his head, “Why?”

“What? I'm not blushing, you are... blushing. Shut up. Why are you in my kitchen, Cas?”

Cas turned to look at the table behind him. “Sam. He gave me his key and asked me to come and grab a book he needed for his class this afternoon. He said he was running late, and he couldn't ask you since you were at work. But, I can't seem to find it. He insisted it was on the table.”

Dean's eyebrow shot up. “His class this afternoon? Cas, Sam doesn't have afternoon classes on Tuesdays. Or Thursdays. And he _knows_ I have Tuesdays off, we almost always meet up for lunch.”

Cas looked back up at Dean, forehead crinkled in confusion. “Why would he have me come get a book that he didn't even need?”

Dean looked from Cas to the table, then back to Cas again before pressing his hand to his face and muttering quietly, “Son of a bitch.”

“Dean? What's wrong?”

Dean sighed, then grinned slightly at Cas. “I think you've been tricked, Cas. I think we both have.”

“Why would Sam want to trick me with a book?” Cas asked quietly.

“It wasn't just Sam. Pretty sure your trickster of a brother was in on it, too.”

Silence.

“Let me guess, Cas. Gabe insisted that you just _had_ to wear this outfit today, right?”

Cas glanced down at his clothes, then back up at Dean with wide eyes. “Well, yes, but-”

“And Sam just _conveniently_ forgot his book that he didn't even need and asked you to pick it up around the same time that he knew I would be getting up,” interrupted Dean.

“Well, when you put it that way, it does sound a little suspicious,” Cas muttered. “Why send me here, though? Why not just embarrass me and send me out in public, make me walk around?”

Dean shifted slightly, then shrugged. “Sam knows I like”—he gestured at Cas's clothing—“leather. Chances are he informed your brother of this, as well.”

Cas's eyes widened and his flush traveled down his neck. “You... you like this look?” His voice was soft, almost unsure.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, man. I mean, I wouldn't want you to wear it all the time, but... you, uh. Well, you look good like this,” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck.

Cas fiddled with the hem of his vest and looked at Dean with a shy smile before looking away. “I, uh... I guess I should go home, then, since there's no book here for me to find,” he said as he started walking slowly out the kitchen.

“Hey Cas?” He stopped in the doorway and glanced back at Dean, who was still rubbing his neck. “Pretty sure you have some clothes here. Would you like to change, and go to lunch with me?”

“What about Sam? I thought you said you meet up with him for lunch on Tuesdays?” Cas asked, still softly smiling.

“Let him stew for a while, pretty sure he and your brother deserve it,” Dean said with a smirk.

Cas's eyes crinkled as his smile grew, and he nodded. “Yeah, Dean. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.”


	2. The Great Pillow War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Team Free Will pillow fight

I'd like to think Dean starts it, completely on accident.  They are all sitting in the living room of the bunker watching some kind of show, and Cas says something slightly snarky. (He's getting better at this being human thing.) Dean, without thinking, just laughs and slings one of the couch pillows at him, and it hits him right in the chest.

Cas just gives that smiting squinty look at Dean, and Dean's grin quickly vanishes. Before he can apologize to Cas, and tell him it's just something stupid people do for fun, Cas picks up the pillow and proceeds to throw it right in Dean's face, causing him to choke on his words.  

When Dean manages to get over his shock and looks back at Cas, he sees a proud smirk on his face.  Game. On.

Five minutes later, you can hear a loud "son of a BITCH!" as Dean's beer bottle gets knocked off the table, followed by Sam, who has been sitting in the corner in a chair, snickering.   
Two seconds later, you hear a surprisingly girly squeal fill the air as Sam gets clobbered by two pillows, one by his brother, the other by an ex-angel.


	3. Kitchen Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Why is there pasta all over my wall!?"

“Hey, uh... Cas?”

 

“Yes, Dean?”

 

“Why is there pasta all over my wall?”

 

“Well... I kinda slipped on the egg on the floor while walking back to the stove with a pan of pasta I had just drained.”

 

“Ok, so... why is there an egg on the floor?”

 

“It fell out of my hand when I tripped over the broom.”

 

“I'm almost afraid to ask... why is the broom in the middle of the floor?”

 

“Well, I had to sweep up the flour.”

 

Heavy sigh.

 

“And the flour was on the floor because...?”

 

“The recipe told me to toss the flour, Dean.”

 

“Wait, what? What recipe would tell you to throw flour on the floor?”

 

“It didn't tell me to throw the flour, Dean. It told me to toss it. See? Read it.”

 

Silence.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“When a recipe tells you to ' _toss the flour with the chicken_ ', it does not literally mean to toss the flour! It means to put it in a Ziploc bag with the chicken, close it, shake it up, and boom. It's done.”

 

More silence.

 

“Oh.”


	4. Netflix and Chill

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Would you like to watch Netflix and chill?”

Loud choking followed by a clearing of the throat.

“Um, Cas? I, uh, I don’t think you understand what that means.”

Silence.

“I assumed it meant we would watch this bee documentary and relax?”

Quiet huff of laughter.

“No, Cas. Netflix and chill means you and your partner have sex while Netflix is playing in the background.”

More silence.

“Dean?”

“What?”

Small awkward silence.

“….would you like to watch Netflix and chill?”


	5. Cactus

“Dean,” Cas growled, “if you don’t stop teasing me, I swear I will punch you in the dick with a cactus.”

Dean froze in between Cas’s legs, face nuzzled into his groin. The room was silent and still for a few moments before Dean’s shoulders started shaking from his silent laughter.

Cas just growled again and gave a harsh tug on Dean’s hair.

Dean lifted his head and tried to get his laughing under control. "You... You did not just say that!"

Cas’s growl turned into a whine as he tried to tug Dean’s head back to where he wanted it.

Dean grabbed Cas’s hands and pinned them to the bed, ignoring Cas’s drawn out “Dean”. He shook his head and started laughing again.

“A cactus. To my dick. First of all, angel, I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever heard you say the word ‘dick’.” Cas, realizing that begging wasn’t going to work, just slumped down into the mattress and attempted to glare. 

Dean snorted.

“Second, just where are you planning on getting this cactus from? We aren’t exactly in Arizona.”

“I don’t know, Dean. Maybe from the cactus store,” Cas sighed, trying to tug his hands out from under Dean’s.

Dean chuckled quietly before sliding up Cas’s body and pressing a kiss against his pouting lips. 

“If I let go of your hands, are you going to maul me to death?” Dean asked, pressing another quick kiss to Castiel’s lips.

Cas tried to hide his amusement with another scowl, but he felt the corner of his lips twitch and knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“No, Dean. I’ll play nice.”

Dean let go of his hands and grinned. “Good, you play nice. Let me be the one to play dirty,” he said, right before he slipped his hands to Cas’s waist and pinned them to the bed. Cas gasped loudly and gripped Dean’s shoulders when Dean pressed his own hips flush against Cas’s, slotting them together perfectly.

Cas slid his hands up to the back of Dean’s head and pulled him down. “No more teasing,” he breathed against Dean’s lips before nipping softly at the bottom one.

Dean groaned quietly and started moving his hips, giving them both the friction they wanted. “No more teasing,” he agreed.


End file.
